Author: Jasmine Myers

I want to be the kind of person my son admires. Lately, this has become even clearer to me than ever before. I want to carry myself in all areas of my life with integrity, with positivity, and with love. I want the road to my future successes, whether they be personal or professional, to be littered with the remains of my angst, my anger, my unkindnesses, my disbelief, my negativity, and my sarcasm, not the people I climbed over to get wherever I’m going. The year of my 30th birthday, 2012, was the hardest in my life. It was a year of loss, my twin miscarriage, my beloved maternal grandmother, and in many ways, the dream of the woman I wanted to become. Of course, of those experiences was born a new woman with new dreams. I became more responsible, more confident, and more discerning. In many other ways, though, I let fear and disappointment stew and seep their toxins slowly but surely into the life I was rebuilding. In this way, I didn’t …

“Waiting Mamas” We are hard to spot. We stand with empty arms, wear thick sweaters to cover the bruises of wounded hearts, stretch smiles over our faces to hide the pain. We send gifts for Mother’s Day, and spend the night sewing heart-shaped pieces back together again. We take numbers, find stiff-backed seats, avoid the eyes of strangers. We flip through magazines, chat with uncomfortable husbands. Doctor visits and web pages, tests and tea leaves, tinctures and time, we diagnose, test, hypothesize. We try, we try, we try. We wait. Written April 28, 2014, seven months before our number was finally, FINALLY called.

What if I forget something? Last night, I nearly had a panic attack over this very question. The truth is, of course, I will forget something. I already have. In Elliott’s almost five months of life, there have been expressions, sounds, and moments that were beautiful and are now lost to my memory. I keep telling myself I should keep a written journal. I always have. (There’s just something about handwriting the moments of your life.) Now, though, I have so little time and typing is much, much faster. So, here is a list. For the memories. + On Friday, Elliott started sitting up. He was so focused on the pattern of his sheets that he didn’t even realize he was holding himself up. Now, he loves sitting. He’s a bit like the tinman (woooooah one way, then woooooah the other), but he’s getting the hang of it FAST. + Last week, he started trying to “trick” me. He would stick out his lower lip like he was sad, and when I said, “Heeeey. What’s …

Has it really been 19 weeks? At once, it feels like so much time has passed and also, no time at all. I think I’ve said that before, but it keeps proving true. My boy has grown so much in a million different ways, and I’ve grown. I’ve been stretched to my limits and brought to my knees. Of course, like anyone else, it is the greatest bliss I’ve known, like cuddling up to a piece of your very own heart. Given the holiday that just passed, thankful is the word that comes to mind. I am thankful beyond measure… for the pain and joy that brought me so unexpectedly to this little person… for the love that Ryan and I have built together and that made it all possible. My beautiful son brings out some of the best (and worst) things in me. He makes me want to rise above my lazy acceptance of things to honor and acknowledge who I really am and how I’ve navigated my world. Having always experienced a level …

Said the king to the people everywhere Listen to what I say Pray for peace people everywhere Listen to what I say The child, the child Sleeping in the night He will bring us goodness and light He will bring us goodness and light ~Do You Hear What I Hear? Last night, I watched my child’s eyes twinkle with the lights of Christmas. I saw his little fingers reach out to touch the ornaments that his daddy and I have collected over the years, a mishmash of our history together, tokens of our hope. Hope that was realized this year, in that very moment.

My son has been struggling with sleep. They call it the four month regression, and there have been days that I’ve felt nearly destroyed by my lack of sleep and frustration. I was fighting his urge to stay up later. I was fighting his desire to feel in control of his sleep schedule. I was fighting his need to be with me. And, he was fighting right back. He was crying and screaming, clearly frustrated that I didn’t get it. Finally, I realized that the struggle really had become about ME. I was trying desperately to cling to that quiet time at night. It was MINE, dammit. A few nights ago, I let go. Our sweet boy began staying up with us in the evenings. I was so concerned with losing my “me” time. As a result, we’ve had “us” time… almost no tears at all at bedtime… we’ve had more cuddles, more playtime, more giggles… Just more. On Friday night, we climbed into our bed, the three of us. I clicked on the flashlight …

Now if you listen closely I’ll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, ‘Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. — Maya Angelou, “Alone” 07.26.2007 I wrote my way out of my childhood, discovering who I was in the spaces between words. There were times in my life that defied my ability to write about them, and for those, I found solace in the words of others. 2007 was one of those times. It was the year that my first marriage quietly came to its final, legal end, taking with it the relationship I’d carefully erected my whole life around. It was also the year that I met the man who made that life implode. That man… God, falling in love with that man was the most fun I’ve ever known in my life. It was a beautiful, exquisite torture. And, on July 26, 2007, I was preparing to leave him. At one …